Where were we? Oh yeah, Kneaders. Going there this weekend. So Deena goes all apeshit crazy and informs me that she has invited a friend of hers who has been led to believe that funny speaks as funny writes. And even though she promised not to ask me to say something amusing, I can already feel my nose and ears turning all precious gem, people, as the unspoken pressure turns the black coal that is Princess Lisa, into a diamond...or CZ. Whatever.
So I informed her that she just cursed me to wake up drooling, with one eye crossed and anal seepage. Plus she's dead to me. But that doesn't change the fact that some unsuspecting lass out there is expecting to meet the photoshopped, edited, two hours condensed into one paragraph copy of Princess Lisa.
Won't she be surprised (alarmed) when instead, she sees the placenta afterbirth, and has to hide her natural instinct to grimace and exclaim, "WHAT. IS. THAT?"
So now I can't go.
But I'm sending my facebook fraud profile picture in place. Just open up the computer and place a Diet Coke in front of her.
It's the least you can do. Deena. (two fingered eyeball point)